The Napoleon of Crime (38 page)

Again Pinkerton dragged Worth back, indirectly, to the matter of the Gainsborough, by offering to lend him cash. “
I asked him how he was fixed and if he needed any money. He said not at all. I told him not to be backward; that if he did need some money I would be willing to advance it to him. He said I was very kind indeed; that I was the first policeman who had ever offered to do anything of that kind, but he did not need the money.” To reinforce the point, he pulled out a wallet and asked Pinkerton to change a $100 bill, making sure the detective spotted seven or eight such notes in his billfold.

After a little more badinage, Worth raised the subject of the Gainsborough again. “He said he would think over what attorneys to get and he would probably adopt my suggestion of returning to the Agnews the picture of the Duchess of Devonshire.” Worth disingenuously added that “
he would gladly give it up without cost of any kind but there were other people interested to whom he had advanced money from time to time for the purpose of keeping them quiet. He did not say who they were, but led me to infer that they were Englishmen.”

It was a most subtle exchange between two veteran poker players. Pinkerton was determined to show Worth that he was not about to be manipulated, but he also made it clear that if Worth could find some reliable intermediary or negotiate an exchange in such a way that the Pinkertons’ reputation would not be sullied, then they had the basis for a deal. In Pinkerton’s own words, “
under no circumstances would he do anything that the authorities at Scotland Yard did not acquiesce in.” But if the English police were agreeable, that was another matter. Worth made it clear that he, and only he, had control of the painting; that any treachery on Pinkerton’s part would mean the deal was off; with his wallet full of cash, he was not about to settle for a cut-price transaction. The two men understood each other perfectly. It only remained to set a symbolic seal on this tentative deal, and it came, oddly enough, in the shape of a small dog.

“
I got talking to him about dogs,” reported Pinkerton, the avid dog fancier, “and he said he was very anxious to get a fox-terrier pup for his little boy and girl. I told him I would give him one in a couple of weeks from now, that he could leave me his address and I would send it to him.”

With this pledge of Pinkerton’s good intentions and a promise to be in touch, either in person or through Sheedy, Worth finally rose to take his leave.

“
Before going away I asked him for an address where I would send the pup to and he said he would drop me a line and let me know. In parting with him he said if he could ever do me any favor on earth, outside of going right out and being a policeman, he wanted me to call on him. He said I had been very nice indeed, and he appreciated my kindness.”

The two men, now firm friends and soon to be partners in a most unlikely and shady business, shook hands warmly and Adam Worth wandered off into the Chicago night. He said he was taking the 9:20 train for New York that evening, but Pinkerton did not even trouble to have him tailed. “
He seemed in good faith in everything he was doing, and if he thought I had broken faith with him, I would only scare him away.”

An agreement, albeit unspoken, had been struck. William immediately wrote to his brother, outlining his extraordinary conversation with Worth. “
Now, I do not know whether we will have any business with this man in the future or not … but I make this request, not to give him up to anybody or to allow anybody to know that we are aware he is in the country. I would not have him fall into the hands of the police or anybody else after he has acted in the way he has to me for anything in the world, and I want whoever reads this letter to be especially instructed that nothing must be said of this man and no search made for him.” Once his hunter, Pinkerton had become Worth’s protector.

“I really and truly think I can handle this man,” Pinkerton told his brother—scenting, perhaps, the immense public-relations possibilities should he pull off the return of the great Gainsborough. “
I believe I can make this man useful to us at some time.”

The next day a cable arrived at Pinkerton’s office, bearing salutations from Henry J. Raymond from an address in Brooklyn. A fortnight after that, two young children were astonished and delighted when a fox-terrier puppy arrived, from an anonymous benefactor, on their uncle’s doorstep in Brooklyn.

TWENTY-SIX

The Bellboy’s Burden

W
ith so many intermediaries involved, the negotiations throughout 1899 over the return of the Gainsborough to Agnew’s were necessarily protracted. The Pinkertons lost no time in contacting Superintendent Donald Swanson of the Criminal Investigation Department at Scotland Yard, who passed the information on to Inspector of Detectives Frank C. Froest—John Shore having left the force, to “chase chippies” in retirement down at peg-leg Nelly Coffey’s brothel. As Pinkerton noted: “
New Scotland Yard had been working on the case for a great many years [and] had practically got the same information which we had, but without the proof, or without the means of effecting a conviction of the thieves.”

True to his word, Pinkerton left out any mention of Worth or Sheedy in his communications with the English police, although Scotland Yard was well aware of whom they were dealing with, albeit at an elaborate distance. Inspector Froest contacted Agnew’s solicitor, Sir George Lewis, and laid out the version of the facts Pinkerton had chosen to relay to him. A reliable individual had approached Mr. Pinkerton, the English policeman explained. This man had been contacted by “
a rich American,” mortally ill, who knew where the stolen painting was and wanted to help return it before he died. The intermediary “
suggests that the matter should be placed in the hands of Messrs. Pinkerton … although he does not desire to receive the reward he suggests it is believed that the reward may have to be paid to someone,” Froest reported.

The intermediary, needless to say, was Patrick Sheedy acting on Worth’s behalf, and the partial information supplied to Scotland Yard was intended to achieve several objectives simultaneously: to suggest that the thief was dead; to allow Pinkerton to negotiate with Agnew’s for the return of the painting without appearing to compromise his principles; to insist that any exchange take place in America; and, above all, to ensure that no one was prosecuted. Both Sheedy and Worth were adamant on this point. The former framed this as a matter of artistic principle, insisting that “
there should be nobody punished or injured … in order that the lost art treasure might be restored.”

In Pinkerton’s words: “
Sheedy took the position that the restoration of the picture to the art world was of great importance, and that it could only be done in the manner suggested, and that if anybody was to be punished, the picture would never be restored as far as he was concerned.” Such talk was probably a reflection of Worth’s views. Just months after the theft, he had congratulated himself on “advertising” the painting to a wider audience; only someone as self-flattering as Worth could have believed he was doing the world of art a favor by returning a masterpiece that he alone had seen for more than twenty years.

In a letter dated June 26, 1899, Sir George Lewis advised the newly knighted Sir William Agnew of Scotland Yard’s opinion of the offer. “
Inspector Froest thinks there really is substance in the communication which he has received … he suggests that Messrs. Pinkerton should be communicated with before incurring any expense. I naturally place the matter before you.” The art dealer was understandably cautious. His residual concern about appearing to condone a crime troubled him less than the suspicion that he might be about to pay dearly a second time for something that was technically his. Agnew’s monetary qualms were clearly more acute than his moral ones.

As one cynic wryly observed later: “
Would not a man offering to sell a coat which had been stolen be at once arrested by the first policeman who heard of the matter? They do things differently where a picture worth a small fortune is concerned.”

“
For the time being the matter hung fire,” according to Pinkerton, “on account of the amount involved for the return of the picture, and the attorneys (Lewis & Lewis) claiming that this must be a ruse on the part of some sharp American to best the Agnews.” The American detective was also guarded: “
We must have a distinct understanding of how far you want us to go before we undertake to do anything at all,” he warned Agnew’s, who in turn had doubts about the honesty of “honest” Pat Sheedy, despite Pinkerton’s assurances that “
he is not in any sense of the word a ‘crook’ but is a heavy betting man and undoubtedly knows many of the swell criminals. I believe he is sincere in what he says.”

The two sides circled one another, with Worth and Sheedy on one side of the bargaining table, Agnew’s and Scotland Yard on the other, and the Pinkertons somewhere in the middle. Worth was the first to try to break the deadlock. Through Sheedy, he offered to return the picture for nothing if Agnew’s “
would allow him the privilege of putting the picture on exhibition for four months.” Sheedy would garner the profits and then pass Worth the lion’s share. This was a ludicrous suggestion—and a measure of Worth’s chutzpah that he thought he could steal a valuable painting and then exhibit it—which was summarily rejected by Agnew’s. A month later Worth and Sheedy were back with another, equally bizarre idea: “
If the Agnews would allow Sheedy to make a steel engraving of the picture, and let him control the plate … the picture would be restored.” As history had shown, the
Duchess
was an extraordinarily lucrative marketing tool and whoever controlled her image would own a most valuable investment. Again, Agnew’s rejected the offer, but the proposition had at least convinced the art dealer that he was in touch with someone who genuinely controlled the famous painting.

To pass the time as negotiations dragged on, Worth put his mind to “laying down” a little criminal work for some colleagues. Early in 1900, Worth arranged for three notorious American crooks—Kid Macmanus, Brooklyn Johnny, and Fairy McGuire—to “
cross the ocean” to London, bringing with them the latest safe-blowing techniques. “
They may be the men using nitroglycerine and dynamite as published in the NY journal a short while ago in connection with a burglary,” reported one Pinkerton detective, but as usual nothing could be traced directly to Worth.

Later that year Worth packed up the painting and headed back to London himself, in a last bid to speed up negotiations. After another bout of subtle nudging between Pinkerton in Chicago and Worth in London, the detective finally believed he had brokered a deal with the English authorities. Then on January 16, 1901, Pinkerton reported, two years to the day after Worth had first approached him, “
the Pinkertons received a cablegram from Supt. Swanson, Scotland Yard, instructing them to take up the matter of the stolen picture, and bring about its return, and the terms asked for by Worth would be accepted, providing it was the genuine picture, and an identifying witness would come forward immediately from England.” Precisely what Worth’s terms amounted to is unknown; all the parties were careful never to commit to paper the details of this dubious deal. The exchange was to take place in America. A lump payment in cash was clearly agreed upon, to be followed by the balance after delivery, as well as a guarantee of immunity from prosecution for all the parties involved. One contemporary said Worth “
insisted that he should get at least £5,000 … and Pat Sheedy was to get for his efforts as negotiator a matter of £2,000.” According to Sheedy, Worth was paid $25,000 in cash. Agnew’s merely decided to accept the convenient fiction that the thief was dead.

After months of haggling, events suddenly began to move at high speed. “
Mr. Pinkerton at once communicated with Mr. Sheedy to locate Worth, and have him come to America.” Sheedy promptly sent messages to “one or two points” in London where he knew Worth could be found. “On receipt of the letter, Worth cabled Sheedy that he would come over on the first steamer,” using a false name and bringing, of course, the false-bottomed trunk and its precious cargo. “
When it was known he had sailed, the Pinkertons cabled to London to have the identifying witness come to the United States.”

The man selected for the crucial task of identifying the long-lost portrait was none other than C. Morland Agnew, Sir William Agnew’s son, who boarded the SS
Etruria
from Liverpool to New York on March 16, 1901, amid conditions of the utmost stealth. “
It was a secret known only to the three partners in the firm”: Morland, his brother George, and his cousin, W. Lockett Agnew. Even old Sir William, who had purchased the painting back in 1876 and luckily happened to be cruising the Greek isles in his yacht, was not informed of the plan, “
for fear, in his excitement, he should give it away.”

“
I have news compelling me to sail for New York,” Morland noted obliquely in his diary. He took his wife along, but even she seems to have been kept ignorant of the reason for the journey until it was under way. The trip was not a pleasant one. Just a day out of harbor, the
Etruria
was struck by a gale which flooded the stateroom, damaged many of the lifeboats, and so terrified the passengers that one committed suicide and another went berserk and had to be forcibly restrained. The state of Mrs. Agnew, as recorded by her husband, gives an accurate impression of the voyage: “
Mother was rather nervous” (Day one). “Mother should not have come” (Day three). “I don’t think Mother likes it. She begins to wish we were home again” (Day five). “Mother is, unfortunately, very nervous” (Day six).

Mother, as it happened, was extravagantly seasick throughout the voyage, a fact which does not seem to have prevented this stoical creature from eating every meal before promptly dispensing with it over the side of the vessel. “Here’s a nice business. What is to be done about Mother,” Morland wondered to his diary. Like every sensible British husband, he did nothing, and confined himself to complaining that he could get no exercise and had forgotten to bring his tobacco pouch. He passed the time by jotting down snobbish remarks about the dining habits of his fellow passengers: “
These Yankees do eat like pigs—at lunch today a woman was eating a sort of cream tart and pickled onions with it! No wonder she has been ill most of the voyage.” But even Morland later admitted: “
I spent an exceedingly anxious time.” After a hideous, fog-bound nine-day voyage, they arrived in New York to be met by Robert Pinkerton, who told the Agnews that the handing over of the painting, if its authenticity was verified, would take place in Chicago. Despite this “
damper to all the hopes I had raised when on board the
Etruria,”
the couple made the best of it by spending the night at the Waldorf. The next day they boarded the Lake Shore Express, finally arriving in Chicago on the afternoon of March 27. William Pinkerton, ruddy, spruced up, and thoroughly overexcited, met them at the station, and this “
fine, well-set up man,” as Agnew described him, accompanied the exhausted, gray-faced couple to the Auditorium Hotel. Everything had gone according to plan, he assured them, and the exchange would take place the following day. “
You will have the Duchess in the morning,” he announced over a large lunch, before offering to show them around the windy city in his carriage and pair. Agnew was already windy enough, at the prospect of what was about to take place. “
Personally, I was too anxious about the morrow to think of doing any sight-seeing in Chicago,” he later said.